


Orange Blues

by espionne



Series: Blues [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pre-Reboot, Translation, tim is a dramaqueen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-22 01:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6065602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/espionne/pseuds/espionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You were dead, and Dick wouldn’t wake up…”</p><p>Tim hates the weekend. The feeling’s mutual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shakeskp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakeskp/gifts).
  * A translation of [Orange Blues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/364760) by [shakeskp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakeskp/pseuds/shakeskp). 



> This is my first translation, so I hope I did shakeskp's wonderful work justice. I would love to hear any and all comments you may have, especially concrit on the translation. Thanks so much for reading!

Tim didn’t pretend to understand the relationship between Nightwing and Batman perfectly. For the most part, sure. There were nuances he captured well: he could discern their periods of agreement from the calm before the storm; he knew what reply would be the last straw; and then the moment where it was best to take cover. He often understood better than they did when they were confessing their affection with remarks so convoluted that he had to scrape through a good ten levels and innuendos before unearthing a meaning: “happy to see you” meant: “I missed you horribly.”

But there were really moments where their behavior took him completely aback. Now, for example. The three of them had been on a stakeout for a good hour and a half, waiting for the dealers to want to show up, when all of a sudden, without warning and without any explanation, Batman had moved to corner, if not plaster, Nightwing against the wall of the chimney hiding them.

Dick hadn’t made a sound or made a movement, as far as Tim could see beyond Batman’s massive silhouette; Batman didn’t even seem to be interested in Nightwing, who couldn’t be more glued to him. He continued to surveil the alley, and Tim knew he should do the same, but he was so intrigued, or rather a little uneasy, or rather completely perturbed. So much that he was really struggling to concentrate.

Bruce and Dick never touched each other. Or very seldom. Bruce had a very, very clear sense of personal space, and even Dick and his need to fiddle with everything at hand respected it. For the most part.

That _Bruce_ , sorry, that _Batman_ started it? There had to be a reason, an excellent reason, one which wasn’t coming to Tim immediately now, but which would become evident shortly.

He hoped.

A movement in the alley attracted his attention. Within the second, Batman had given the signal to depart and jumped into the void. Tim couldn’t stop himself from throwing a glance toward Nightwing. Who didn’t seem more disturbed than that.

-

Hours later in the Batcave, Tim waited to be alone with Dick to demand an explanation. His response, still unknown, triggered an unexpected apprehension from Tim.

“Um, what happened earlier?”

In the middle of extracting himself from Nightwing’s costume to change before going back to New York, Dick lifted his head.

“Earlier?”

“When we were waiting. When Bruce moved in front of you.”

“Oh.”

Dick shrugged, seeming embarrassed.

“I was starting to struggle to stay put,” he confessed.

“…And?”

“And Batman a couple of millimeters from you? You stay calm, believe me.”

Tim believed him.

¤¤¤

In retrospect, he told himself he should have known that trying the same thing on Bart really wasn’t a good idea. He pleaded exhaustion, stress, and Conner who was flirting with _everyone_ recently, including Tim, which pissed Cassie off and put Kon on the defensive.

In any case, if Bart didn’t stay in position, the plan would fail, and so Tim tried his luck. Of course, he didn’t even have time to approach effectively before Rose couldn’t help but whistle, Mia cleared her throat, and Bart widened his eyes while asking _Robinwhat’reyoudoing_.

Of course the plan had fallen through.

The flyers, composed of Conner, Cassie, and Kara, had rushed in as reinforcements instead of holding their line, and Tim hoped that the bazaar of hours that had followed would never reach Nightwing’s ears, because the Titans surely had never known such humiliation under his command.

Thank goodness it had only been a training session, or they all would have died.

When Cassie had asked what happened to them, Rose had responded something like: “You can rest easy, doll, apparently Robin prefers speed to strength!” Exasperated, Tim hadn’t stayed for the rest of the explanation, preferring to take refuge in the briefing room to review the catastrophic execution of their practically non-existent teamwork.

From the outside, it was even worse than he’d imagined.

_There’s was nothing else for it than to call themselves Young Justice again._

He ran a hand through his hair and meanwhile Bart unloaded.

“You’re my best friend, Tim, you know,” he declared in a panicked voice, “but so is Conner and I really prefer girls you know and Conner…”

Tim hastily interrupted him and reassured him of his intentions while trying to stay calm.

“Oh,” Bart said. “Okay. Yeah. I want to say, it’s flattering and all, er, but I like living. You’ll tell Conner, right? Promise?”

“I don’t see how this concerns him,” sighed Tim, who preferred not to discuss this sort of thing with Superboy.

“But you’ll tell him, right?”

Bart ran off as soon as Tim promised him, and Tim turned off the much too depressing video.

Conner had disappeared when he left for his search; Mia informed him that he’d claimed an emergency in Metropolis before leaving the tower. Tim stopped himself from rubbing his temples and, deciding that the weekend was a lost cause, declared that anyone who wanted could go back home. As for himself, he was going to New York to whine to Dick.

And it was only Saturday.

-

Dick listened to his recriminations with a compassionate ear.

“Kara comes only when convenient, for a while Cassie’s been fighting everything I say again, Rose and she keep provoking each other at the first opportunity, and Conner seems to have decided to try to take the trophy of biggest seducer from Green Arrow.”

Tim buried his face in his hands.

“He’s driving me crazy,” he grumbled.

Dick winced and patted him on the back.

“On that point, I’m going to avoid giving you advice. You’ll have noticed that my love life is hardly a success.”

“It’s not that,” Tim protested. “Well yeah, a little. At least before, when he was only interested in Cassie, I knew where to turn. Now he’s preying on everything that moves. I don’t know if it’s living in Metropolis with Clark that’s done it, but it looks like he’s rediscovered his hormones.”

“Maybe he’s exploring his sexuality?”

“He can’t do it somewhere not right under my nose?”

The question was rhetorical. Dick’s response came in the form of a pint of Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream and the first _Halloween_. Tim found it perfectly satisfactory.

-

When he returned to the manor at the beginning of the evening, he found an email from Rose in his inbox, along with a text file attachment.

_I got nothing against a little show w Bart but id prefer this…_

_Sweet dreams_ ♥

With the terrible feeling that he was looking for trouble, Tim opened the attachment all the same. And indeed regretted it.

The file revealed itself to be a sex scene which a single glimpse made him classify as torrid. Between Nightwing and Robin. Tim stood abruptly, sending his chair flying. Alfred entered just then with a sandwich and coffee mug; in his haste to close the file, Tim almost knocked over the computer screen and succeeded only in magnifying the screen.

To his great mortification, Alfred stayed politely at the door, an eyebrow raised, and waited for Tim to put himself together and turn the screen off, before he approached, seeming nonchalant and yet all-knowing. Tim wanted to disappear into the earth, and he wasn’t talking about the Batcave.

“Master Bruce will not be returning for dinner this evening,” Alfred declared. “He will have you know that if you wish to finish the weekend with Master Dick, you have permission to do so.”

Tim’s eyes widened.

_Nightwing’s tongue swipes gently over his lips, and he opens his mouth, more and more…_

He cleared his throat.

“I’m going to stay in Gotham,” he said in a small voice. “So Cass will have less to do.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow again, but left the plate on the desk without a word.

“If you would like a hot diner before going on patrol, let me know.”

“Yes, thank you Alfred.”

When the door closed behind the butler, Tim let himself collapse in his chair with a sigh of relief. A second of respite, then he hurried to erase all trace of Rose’s email, eyes practically closed.

_Monday at last…_

¤¤¤

He would’ve quickly forgotten the entire incident if Bruce hadn’t repeated it. Bruce, not Batman, and that was what made the event notable. Masked, Tim wouldn’t even have paid attention, would’ve catalogued it as one of the multiple oddities inherent to Batman and Nightwing’s relationship which only happened between them.

But the three of them were at a restaurant, which a recent habit (for the new, political Wayne family). For once they were in New York, and Dick had brought them here. They were far from the class and luxury Bruce had accustomed them to, but the small room of the Ethiopian restaurant was very warm and they ate with their hands, both of which made the experience particularly pleasant. Bruce had hardly seemed bothered and, despite the saucepot, had maintained an absolute dignity and propriety. Dick, an apparent regular, was pornography all by himself. Tim quickly learned to keep his eyes on his plate. He was managing a little less well than Bruce but at least enjoyed it as much as Dick, even if he showed it more with gluttony than lust.

Dick made it clear that he was getting the check, and that it wasn’t worth discussing. Bruce had pursed his lips but not protested, which won him a luminous smile.

When it came time to pay, Dick went to the bar while Bruce and Tim headed to the door. He took a while to return, in the middle of talking with a waiter. Dick’s back was to them, but the waiter was facing them, and the expression on his face made it clear that he wasn’t hesitating to give Dick his number if he hadn’t already.

Bruce, who must have been feeling impatient, began to walk towards them. And if Tim hadn’t moved a little to the side, if he hadn’t witnessed the scene two weeks earlier, he would have believed that Bruce had very simply pressed against Dick. But no, they never touched. There were simply very, very close.

The server paled and quickly distanced himself. Bruce didn’t move right away, and Dick stayed just as still. He didn’t relax until after Bruce had moved away.

Tim averted his eyes and acted as if he hadn’t noticed anything.

He asked himself what explanation Dick would have this time. However, during his return trip, Tim was surprised to see moments of hesitation on his older brother’s face as he looked at their mentor.

Apparently, Tim wasn’t the only one who Bruce’s action had disconcerted.

¤¤¤

After a week of radio silence and a weekend sulking without any particular reason, Conner had returned to the Titans more in shape than ever. And with new suggestions.

“We could recruit a little, the team’s missing guys! We’re a dramatic minority!”

Tim stared, not knowing what to say.

“And then, a little fresh blood would be nice,” added Conner. “Bart, you and I have known each other from the beginning. Anyone really great, of the potential candidates?”

Bart pulled at his hair in a perhaps exaggerated fashion, but as for himself, Tim had the sudden irrepressible need to take Conner’s head and hit it very hard against the table, so he had nothing to say.

To his grand satisfaction, Cassie did it for him.

“Hey! No need to be violent!” Conner protested.

Tim couldn’t prevent himself from throwing a look full of gratitude to their Amazon. She surprised him and gave him a little smile that warmed Tim’s heart.

Rose began to list some names. He cut her off right away.

“As long as we aren’t capable of acting as a team,” he said in a serious tone, “there’s no question of taking in new members.”

“Robin’s right,” Cassie added calmly.

Again, they exchanged a look, and Tim knew that whatever had happened for her to blame him up until now, a truce had just been made. He hoped it would last.

A little later, Conner came over to put a hand on his shoulder, contrite.

“I wasn’t serious, just now.”

“That’s really the problem, Conner,” he responded wearily. “You haven’t been serious for some time now.”

_I miss you_ , he kept to himself.

His friend opened his mouth without saying a word, a confused expression on his face. As he wasn’t saying anything, Tim finally left. Conner didn’t call him back.

_He’d heard some people found the weekend relaxing._

¤¤¤

Connor had suggested he come to Star City Sunday night before returning to Gotham. They hadn’t seen each other for a long time, both individually busy. Therefore, Tim accompanied Mia to Ollie’s, where Roy popped up like a jack-in-the-box 20 minutes after Tim’s arrival. Connor looked at Tim with an embarrassed look, and Tim rolled his eyes and smiled at him.

He liked Roy, really, if only because of his friendship with Dick. On top of which, it was nice for his ego to be perceived as a threat by Roy “kill ’em all” Harper.

Barely inside, Roy exclaimed:

“Aw, Tim! It seems you’re dying of love for Kid Flash?”

Tim struck Mia with a look, and Mia shrugged with a large smile. Even Connor bit his lip.

“Lay off it,” he sighed. “I was just testing a technique of Batman’s, that’s all.”

Roy lifted his eyebrows, leaning on the back of the couch. Nonchalant, he played with the little hairs on Connor’s nape, who allowed it.

“A technique of Batman’s? For what, stopping speedsters in their tracks?”

“No, to prevent Nightwing from fidgeting,” responded Tim impulsively, too annoyed not to defend himself.

There was a silence.

“Stop ’wing from… Oh! Oooh, _that_ technique!” said Roy with a chuckle.

He recovered.

“And you buy that?”

Tim was going to respond _yes of course, why not?_ when the scene at the restaurant came to mind. Uneasy, he stayed silent.

“Bogus argument,” declared Roy. “He’s been using that excuse for years. Dick has a strong discipline. Say what you want, he can stay still for hours if he wants. He doesn’t like it, but he does it.”

It was true. It was _true_. And Tim had wanted a _normal_ explanation so much that he had accepted it without even contesting it.

Roy sniffed.

“Bo—gus,” he insisted. “But you know the saddest thing about it?”

He shook his head.

“It’s that Dick believes it.”

-

Tim returned from Star City more disturbed than he’d ever been. Roy’s revelations had shaken him. His question found itself again without an answer. The only one which seemed logical to him, the only one which would explain everything frightened him more than he dared admit. He had an irrational desire to contact Jason, to ask him if he had suspected something, if something had existed only then. If it was connected to Dick leaving.

He didn’t understand how he could have missed such a huge event, him, who’d dedicated part of his life to them, he who considered himself an authority on their relationship. Suddenly, everything he knew took on another meaning. All his conclusions, all his deductions, everything was distorted.

Of course, it was only a supposition. An implication that Roy hadn’t taken the trouble to clarify.

But if it turned out to be true? What would he do then? How would he act?

Nightwing’s blind devotion, Dick’s systematic and unconditional forgiveness. Batman’s excessive demands, Bruce’s unhealthy possessiveness. That strange way he had of violently driving Dick off, and yet doing everything to keep him on his territory. Dick, who allowed it. Who grumbled, who protested, who rebelled, but who always returned.

Everything was becoming so clear now.

And Tim had to rebuild his adoptive family in his head. Completely. He felt off balance. He needed to understand. To know what he’d missed.

At the manor, he didn’t present himself right away to Bruce, who Tim wasn’t sure he could still look in the eye. He looked for Alfred who, like always in these scenarios, was the one to find him.

“Master Timothy, welcome back.”

Tim turned and found Alfred behind him, feather duster in hand.

“Alfred…”

The old butler raised an eyebrow.

“Master Tim?”

Tim hesitated for an instant, then gathered his courage.

“Alfred… Dick and Bruce… what were they like? What were they like, before?”

−

Alfred didn’t have anything to add. Nothing but the usual: “Master Bruce and Master Dick, difficulty communicating, a lot of fondness, etc.”

Maybe he didn’t know anything (which was hard to believe), maybe he didn’t want to look reality in the face. Or maybe he was even covering for them. Only, Tim refused to believe that they were… together. He’d been had as to the nature of their affection for each other, but they wouldn’t ever have been able to hide it from him.

If Bruce found him quieter than usual that night, he didn’t mention it. Tim still didn’t know how to react and didn’t have the time to question the subject much longer.

A small city in the middle of the United States exploded. A first incident, an example, and a new enemy appeared. Nobody was sure if he came from the future, from a parallel universe, or if he was the result of an accident of brain experimentation (especially as his only response when they questioned him was: _“I’m your past, present, and future, HA HA HA HA!”)._ The JLA refused to classify his intervention as a Crisis but as Rose said, nobody gave a shit. He was doing enough damage to mobilize every superhero around (without counting some enraged criminals), and that was all that counted.

Unik, as he called himself, controlled machines in a very worrisome way, through a virus which he sent by linking his brainwaves to technology waves, capturing even the most remote devices.

It took them awhile to determine the nature of his power, but once they had, the final battle began.

There were several groups: the defense teams which regularly rotated to avoid exhaustion; the attack team which was facing Unik directly; and the infiltration team charged with invading the JLA watch tower, securing it, and launching an “antivirus” there, which, failing to totally suppress Unik’s powers, would blur the majority of his waves and would relieve all alternative battle fronts.

This team was comprised of the Teen Titans.

Oracle and Tim had teamed up to hack a teleportation pod. The Titans managed to join them at the tower and were immediately attacked by a good part of the devices and various robots.

The seriousness of the situation had given them a discipline they hadn’t known they were capable of. Less quickly than Tim would have liked, but much more quickly than he would have dreamed, they successfully reached the control room and sequestered it, which meant they held the entire tower. While the others defended the room, Tim and Bart took themselves to the computers, Tim to up the progress of the program, and Bart to enter the codes at a speed which Unik’s virus couldn’t beat. They hoped the tower’s computer would support the shock, but Wally had assured them that he and Superman used it without difficulty.

They worked in a silence interrupted by the sounds of battle behind them and by Rose cursing.

“Done!” Bart finally shouted. “How long before it works?”

“It’s going to disengage little by little,” responded Tim. “Probably one to two hours for the whole planet to be entirely clean.”

“This is going to be long,” groaned their speedster. “Hey, they’re calling us!”

It was Nightwing, who demanded a report of the situation. Tim summarized recent events for him.

“Well played, you guys. Robin, Wally will be your contact here. I’m leaving the East Coast for the main front, they’re surrounded.”

“We’re coming,” Tim declared.

“You’re going nowhere. You have to hold the tower – if Unik takes hold of it again, everything will have been for nothing.”

Tim tensed. Nightwing’s tone was calm but he could sense a tension underneath which he didn’t like at all. It must be going even worse than he was saying.

“I’m coming.”

“Out of the question. You’re staying with your team. You guys are holding the tower, and _you_ are not moving before the signal. Do I make myself clear? Robin, is it clear?”

Tim gritted his teeth.

“Clear.”

-

Conner had come to lean on the control panel, right at Tim’s side, but abstained from speaking. Tim was aware of him, both of his comforting presence and his silence. When he lifted his eyes towards him, Conner offered him a small smile that Tim couldn’t help but respond to.

“We have the picture!” shouted Bart.

“Focus on the main battle,” Tim ordered.

“Sir yes sir!”

Chaos. He heard Cassie and Kara breathe deeply behind him. Rose abstained from commenting. Mia stifled a cry. He felt Conner’s hand gripping his shoulder, stronger than usual, as if he couldn’t quite control his grip.

“Ouch,” breathed Bart.

The city where Unik had established his headquarters was a desolate landscape. Tim pressed his lips against the tremor threatening them.

Blüdhaven. The last Crisis. The massacre.

Electronic creatures were fighting against part of the JLA, the JSA, and other unaffiliated superheroes; they saw the red and blue flash of Superman cross the screen, saw the half-destroyed building where Red Arrow was drawing his bow. Further down, Connor was fighting hand-to-hand with a robot. His father couldn’t be far.

“We should be there too,” said Mia.

“Nightwing told us to stay here, we stay here,” Rose replied without her ordinary animosity. “I don’t want to look him in the eye if we leave and lose the tower.”

“Maybe we don’t all have to stay,” said Kara.

“Have you already forgotten the trouble we had getting here?” intervened Cassie. “This worked because we all worked together…”

“…for once,” murmured Tim.

“…for once, and only this room is completely secured. It’s enough if Unik realizes what we’re doing and focuses on the tower, and then everything’s ruined.”

“For that he’d need time,” Bart cut in. “Take a look at the screen on the right!”

He’d just focused on Unik, who wasn’t alone.

“Batman was able to get through his shield?” exclaimed Mia.

“It’s Batman,” Conner responded, almost blasé. “He probably has a batscrambler for magnetic shields.”

“An anti-reality wave diffuser. It’s attached to his belt,” said Tim. “We weren’t sure it would work.”

“We’re going to act like we know what you’re talking about, Rob, and just be happy it works.”

Batman and Unik were fighting a seemingly uneven fight: the other heroes were dealing with machines and without them, their enemy wasn’t worth much and defended himself flabbily with a weak telekinesis. Bruce wasn't going all out, remarked Tim. He wasn’t taking useless risks. Clearly he intended to exhaust his adversary before striking.

They had the picture but not the sound. The following scene unfolded in a leaden silence. Propelled by his telekinesis, Unik flew off several meters above the ground. His outstretched hand brought his the weapon of one of the robots. He brandished it. He drew.

Tim’s breathing stopped.

Out of nowhere, a black silhouette, a blue flash which caught the full force of the attack in the air.

One always imagines that time stood still in moments like this, allowing viewers the necessary seconds for understanding.

Nightwing dropped like a stone.

“No, no, NO!” shouted Tim.

He was trapped in a loop, a scene repeating, repeating, again in the middle of the Crisis, again Dick on the ground and Conner dead and…

“Robin! Robin! TIM!”

Tim breathed, gasped, solid arms around him, Conner’s voice, Conner alive and Nightwing, Dick… still on the ground. Donna held him against her.

“I’ll kill him!” shouted Rose. “I’ll rip his eyes out, I’ll shove my fingers in his eyes and rip out his brains, I’ll _kill_ him!”

“We’ve gotta go there!” Kara shouted. “We’ve gotta go there, oh god Nightwing, Nightwing…!”

“Robin, come on!” Tim heard like in a dream.

He looked at Cassie without comprehension.

“Come on!” she insisted. “We’ve got the tower, go!”

Dick had told him to stay. Dick had told him to…

“Come on or I’m throwing you in the teleporter myself!”

Tim ran.

-

When he got there, everything was over.

Only a handful of minutes had passed, but the battlefield was silent. Donna had gotten up, had let Bruce take her place over Dick’s body. Diana held her in her arms a few meters away. In the corner of his eye, he saw Roy come running. Wally didn’t know yet, he thought mechanically.

Flashback.  _Superman over Conner’s fallen body, Cassie in tears against Diana._

But standing in front of Bruce, a long bloody knife in his hands, a strange presence.

“Red Hood?” muttered a voice near him.

Conner. A hand on his shoulder which he no longer felt. Automatically he thought: _why aren’t you at the tower, they need you_ , but his mouth was dry and throat tight and…

Bruce straightened up, Dick in his arms. Tim saw only his dangling legs. He felt someone pushing him on the back, gently.

“Go, Tim. Come on,” whispered Conner. “I’m here.”

That last sentence gave him the effect of a shot of adrenaline. A first step, two, three, he was running; he passed Connor, Tempest, Green Arrow, almost pushed Roy… Jason turned his head towards him, pushed back the red hood hiding the wolf inside.

“Where were you hiding, babybird?” he said in a tone lacking its usual bite.

He wiped the blade of his knife on his jeans.

“Nightwing,” Tim finally said.

“He was breathing before _dad_ over there started smothering him,” Jason responded. “But IF SOMEONE DOESN’T MOVE HIS ASS NOTHING’S GONNA CHANGE!”

Superman appeared out of nowhere.

“Batman, let me bring him. He needs medical attention, let me take him…”

“No.”

Clark didn’t waste time in useless discussion. He caught Bruce by the waist. In a couple seconds, they had disappeared.

“Good,” said Jason. “I hope you know where the batmobile’s parked.”

 -

The batmobile hadn’t ever left Gotham, and it was the Arrows who brought Tim back. Conner had returned to Metropolis ( _“I know where Clark brought them, Tim, don’t worry, I’ll see, I’ll keep you in the loop, that okay?”),_ Jason had disappeared with a “ _Later_ ” and an almost affectionate little swat behind Tim’s head.

For an instant, he blamed him for leaving, and held himself from calling Jason back, from asking him to stay with him. For leaving him all alone.

Ollie deployed all his optimism ( _“You’re unkillable, you Bats, just look at the Red Hood!”_ ), Connor kept a constant arm around his waist, and Roy abstained from commenting on it. When they dropped Tim off in front of the manor, he laid his hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“Ollie’s right for once,” he said lowly. “Dick’s done worse.”

Tim asked himself who Roy was trying to convince but nodded.

-

Alfred knew. Jason had made a call to the manor. Tim felt a pathetic gratitude to him. He wouldn’t have known how to tell him that Dick had tried again to kill himself, and he knew it was unfair of him, that Dick had only wanted to save Bruce, but Bruce had _armor_ and Dick didn’t, and the excuse of an instinctive reaction wasn’t working anymore, and he was suddenly taken by a blow of rage against Bruce, Bruce whose fault it was, and if Dick died Tim would never forgive him!

His irrational anger receded as soon as it had risen.

They finally tried to contact Bruce, without success, and it was then that Tim realized he knew nothing, nothing about what had happened after Dick’s fall. He was planning to call Barbara when the doorbell rang. Alfred and Tim exchanged a glance. Alfred left to see who it was, and Tim armed himself with shuriken hidden at the bottom of a flowerpot.

“Relax, Master Tim, it’s only young Master Conner.”

“ _Conner_?”

He joined him to be sure Alfred wasn’t mistaken, but no, of course, Alfred wasn’t making that kind of mistake.

“I have official permission to come to the manor,” explained Conner once inside. “I wanted to ring the bell to do it right.”

He had news. Good news.

“He’s stable,” he declared while devouring a piece of the brownie Alfred had offered him. “They’re a little worried about his spinal column, but apparently Donna hacked an energy thing when she caught him which kept everything in place, and Raven’s with him. She thinks she can fix the major damage. It should be okay.”

It was so comforting that Tim suddenly realized he was famished. He hadn’t eaten anything since his return.

Dick was alive. Really. He was going to survive and… he locked his knees, because the contrary would be unacceptable. Would kill him.

“Do you know what happened exactly?” he asked in response.

“Ah yeah, I asked… Nobody really saw what happened, but the main gist is that Donna caught Nightwing when he fell, and Batman, uh, lost it and started pummeling Unik, and Diana said she thought for an instant Batman was going to kill him. And then Red Hood, Jason, arrived, nobody knows from where, and punched Batman…”

Conner’s voice was impressed.

“He sent him flying! And then, uh. Jason stabbed his knife, there, in Unik’s throat. And he died.”

Tim slowly nodded. He had more or less concluded that Jason had killed the enemy. He should disapprove, he knew. And maybe, later, he would convince himself that Jason had gone too far. For the moment, he felt only gratitude towards him, and the feeling was already disturbing enough.

“The rest of the team?” he demanded.

“Everyone’s fine, they went back to their respective groups. Jericho went to look for Rose before she overturns all of Metropolis looking for Nightwing, and Kara’s there with Clark.”

Conner hesitated for a moment.

“Hey… don’t worry about us, okay? Do what you have to do here. We get it.”

-

A little later, when they found themselves in Tim’s room, Conner approached him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Tim. You going to be okay?”

He nodded without responding. Conner sighed.

“You… you scared me. You seemed totally out of it, I… I’d never seen you like that. What happened?”

“Nothing… I was just in shock. That’s all.”

Conner shook his head.

“It wasn’t that sort of block. There’s something else. Talk to me, Tim. I know… I know I screwed up recently but I didn’t know how… well. I want to say that I’m here for you, okay?”

Tim looked away. Conner’s fingers brushed his throat. He made to move away and sit on his bed. His friend joined him immediately.

“I know,” breathed Tim.

“What happened?” Conner asked softly.

“It’s the… the second time Dick’s put himself in the path of a bullet like that.”

He was very proud of himself: his voice didn’t waver.

“The second time he’s nearly died because he’s forgotten that Bruce has armor and he doesn’t and…”

“I don’t remember…”

“You were dead,” Tim interrupted, tense. “It was… just after.”

“I’m sorry,” breathed Conner.

“I hate that time.”

Conner dead. Dick in a coma they didn’t know if he would wake from. Or in what condition. Bruce in a bitch of a mood and unhappy and… and then Dick had opened his eyes and Conner had reappeared. After multiple tests and days not daring to believe it, they finally had confirmation, the necessary proofs.

Luthor, very simply, had had four backup bodies for Conner, and Conner’s soul had attached itself to one of them. It’d taken time before he stabilized, before he remembered who he was and what had happened. Then he’d returned, and in the panic, they’d never spoken about it. Really never.

That whole time was sealed away. Taboo. And Tim had repressed it, had acted as if Conner had never died, as if he’d never believed he’d gone crazy with grief. Followed everyone else’s example.

“You were dead,” Tim repeated, a knife twisting in the wound. “You were dead, and Dick wouldn’t wake up and…”

Conner drew him towards him. Arms around his shoulders, forehead leaning on his head. The position was uncomfortable, and Tim was taken aback and stiffened.

“I’m sorry, Tim.”

Conner’s breath caressed his hair. His heart was beating against Tim’s shoulder.

“I’m alive. I’m alive, and Dick is going to pull through, you’ll see. It’ll all be all right.”

Tim’s breathing quickened, and his throat ached and eyes were stinging. He dreamed he felt Conner place a kiss in his hair, and Tim collapsed against him, beaten. He felt Conner stiffen as if surprised, and then Conner moved his arms and let himself fall on the bed, keeping Tim with him, and hugged him.

Forehead against Conner’s collarbone, hands on his shoulder, Tim closed his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Back in Gotham, Bruce and Dick gave each other the cold shoulder. Bruce’s expression was shut while he opened the door for Dick to come in; Dick, lips pinched, refused to lean on the arm Bruce was holding out to him, preferring his crutches.

Tim hesitated for a moment, but Dick’s face softened so much looking at him that Tim rushed forward, hugging him carefully.

“Idiot,” he muttered.

“Glad to see you too, little brother.”

“Jason know that you’re okay?” he added in a cautious whisper.

“I talked with him two days ago,” responded his older brother in the same tone.

In the meantime, Alfred arrived to reclaim for himself the rights to chastise and hug, and then they entered the manor.

In a prickly tone, Bruce ordered a room to be fitted on the ground floor, to which Dick replied that it was out of the question and that he’d sleep in his own room.

“If you’re here, it’s in part not to have to use the stairs,” Bruce said in a light rumble.

“Oh yes, I was forgetting the famous steps of my apartment with an elevator.”

“I allowed myself to install a stairlift,” intervened Alfred in a voice which invited no dispute to reach his ears on such a ridiculous subject.

“I tested it,” added Tim. “It works great and there are several speeds, you’ll love it.”

He stoically bore Bruce’s disapproving look as Dick thanked Alfred.

“For how long will we have the pleasure of your company?”

“The time necessary for him to heal without aggravating his condition.”

“Stop talking as if I were an irresponsible idiot,” said Dick, tense.

“It’s true that you’ve more than demonstrated your thinking skills.”

For a moment Tim believed that Dick was going to take a swing at Bruce with one of his crutches. But he breathed, grit his teeth, and responded almost calmly:

“If the bullet had hit you, it would have destroyed the diffuser. Unik would have been un-attackable again, and…”

“Look me in the eye and says that that’s what you thought about before jumping in.”

Tim froze. Several seconds passed in a heavy silence. Then Dick let out a small sigh. He spoke lowly, in a voice vicious in its sweetness.

“You really want to hear out loud that I would die for you without hesitation?”

Bruce showed a terrible expression, turned his back to them, and exited the room with a furious gait.

“That could have been worse.” Commented Dick in a tone drained of emotion. “The rest of the brownies, Alfred?”

-

Tim waited until the end of the evening to try his hand at offense. Bruce had made understood that he would patrol alone, and it would be better for everyone.

Dick was lying on his bed when Tim poked his head through the crack of his door. He lifted his eyes from his book, smiled, and patted the mattress next to him. Tim went for it, and in seconds was plastered against his older brother.

“Bruce is right,” he declared right away before deflating. “You can’t thr–”

“You’re not having at it too,” sighed Dick.

“I saw you _die_. I saw you _die_. You fell.”

“Tim, Timmy, little brother…”

“I lost my parents and Steph and Conner for a while and… God, Dick.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes, I hate Bruce because I’m scared for you, and I hate you because you think only about him in those moments.”

Dick didn’t deny it. He pulled Tim towards him and caressed his hair gently.

“You’re important to me too.”

“That’s not the problem. I know. And not for anything in the world would I want for you to also be… like you are with Bruce. I couldn’t handle knowing you’d die for me, and I don’t know how Bruce does it. Even though he can blame only himself. But I’d like…”

He bit his lip.

“If you die, you take him with you. Only Batman will be left. I don’t know how I’ll get over your death. You won’t be there to lift me up. I don’t know how I’ll survive with only Batman. I wouldn’t last. And yes, I’m using emotional manipulation.”

Sigh.

“Don’t leave me.”

A silence, then Dick kissed his forehead impulsively.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised in a whisper. “You’ll never be all alone again, Tim.”

Tim felt something relax in his chest, a knot of terror and suffering he’d never really paid any attention to, which Conner had already loosened, and which finally started to disappear completely.

They stayed silent for a while, then Tim gathered his courage and continued on.

“While I’m still in your good graces…”

“Dirty beast,” Dick said affectionately.

“…I have to talk to you about something.”

Dick patiently waited for him to make up his mind, encouraging him with head scratches.

“It’s about the Titans.”

“It’s going badly? But you guys…”

“No, it’s not going badly. But… I can’t anymore.”

Dick’s hand rested in his hair.

“Be part of the Titans?”

“Be in charge of the Titans. I’m going to ask Cassie if she wants to take over.”

“Explain…”

“I’m not a leader, Dick.”

There, it was said. His older brother stayed silent, so Tim continued, anxious to justify himself:

“I know I need to control everything, but… I need independence too. I need not to feel guilty when I put you before the Titans. To not give myself an ulcer because we’re not all understanding each other perfectly, because we succeed at working together only when it’s life or death, and that’s not good enough. It doesn’t work, we haven’t really been functioning since… Since the Crisis, and I can’t convince myself any longer that I can change things. I can’t anymore. I need to go back into the shadows.”

He looked up, ready to face Dick’s gaze. Dick was smiling at him. He gave Tim a little head-butt and kept his forehead pressed to his. Tim felt his breath on his cheek.

“Batboy,” he said in a tender voice.

“I’m sorry,” said Tim impulsively.

“Why?”

“Because I’m not the Robin I should be.”

“And what Robin is that?”

“Able to lead. Less egocentric. Less whiny. I seem to spend my time complaining to you.”

Dick shook his head without losing his smile and stood back a bit.

“You’re the Robin you should be,” he declared. “Nobody’s asking you to be something else. Robin isn’t a computer program. We’re human beings.”

“But…”

“First off, you have the right to whine. You especially. I find it reassuring that you’re complaining, I’m happy that you’ve finally come to complain to me. Bruce isn’t a model to follow when it comes to managing emotions. Me either. I didn’t whine enough at your age.

“Next, you’re not selfish. You have a sense of survival, and that’s a very good thing. If sometimes people give you a reality check, that’s normal, that’s called being a teenager. And there’s nobody who’s truly left that in our community of masks. You only have to think about the soap opera that’s the JLA.

“Finally, you underestimate yourself. You’re able to lead. You’ve proved that. You have the right not to like it. You have the right to do so only by default. Not to say you can’t.”

Throat tight, Tim croaked:

“I was… I was afraid to disappoint you.”

“Tim… you’re not me. And that’s not a bad thing. It’s nothing like a bad thing. If you don’t want to lead the Titans, it’s not a big deal.”

Again, a smile.

“You know, when I re-formed the Titans with the others, a couple years ago? It’s Wally who forced my hand. Because he thought I needed it. And because I’m a fool and it became more like an obligation, a burden, he reminded me of something important: the purpose of the Titans isn’t to drive ourselves sick. It’s to have a place to find people again, friends who understand our crazy life. And believe me when I say that I’m the first to forget it. Wally, Roy, or Donna have often put my head on straight, it’s time that I pick up the slack for you.”

He hesitated, then continued:

“I’ve avoided getting involved until now because I wanted you all to feel truly at home, for you to do things the way you want to, but… I have the impression that you all spend your time training. Am I wrong?”

“I… no.”

Dick ruffled his hair.

“Little brother, you’ve got to revise your definition of the word “weekend.”

¤¤¤

Dick and Tim had talked for a long time, and Tim had had a lot to think about. When he returned to Titan’s Tower the next week, he reassured everyone of Nightwing’s health, exchanging an embarrassed look with Conner, then he asked Cassie if they could talk. At first, she seemed resigned, then perturbed when he explained his problem to her.

“I wasn’t expecting this…”

“…then what…?

Cassie made a face, seeming unsettled.

“For you to ask me why I’ve been shitty to you lately.”

“…I thought that was settled…?”

“You don’t want to know, huh. Because you know me, and you’re used to me being disagreeable without warning and without justification. That’s why I won’t lead the Titans.”

Tim was taken aback.

“You have leadership talent…”

“No, Tim,” breathed Cassie before allowing herself to fall on a couch, arms crossed. “I have the talent to give orders, and I know about war.”

“There must be a subtle difference I’m not getting.”

“Conner, Kara, and Bart, that’s fine, but I can give as many orders as I like to Rose, she’ll obey only the ones she likes and could disobey other to cross me. Speedy will wait for your confirmation and you… it’s not easy to tell you what to do, Tim. You have the tendency to know better than anyone where you belong and where others should be.”

He closed his cape around him, unsettled.

“It’s not you who has to change your role,” she continued. “It’s us who all should talk about what we expect from you and from the team.”

“Um, about that… I talked it over with Nightwing,” Tim continued, comforted by the transition. “I wanted to see with you all but… you could give me your opinion.”

“I’m listening.”

“Since the last Crisis,” started Tim, knowing just like himself Cassie was hearing “ _since Conner died_ ,” “we’ve… lost what it means to be a Titan. Especially as there aren’t any mentors to help us anymore. We come to the tower to train and that’s all. Because we’re afraid not to be ready if it happens again.”

Cassie nodded. They were both thinking about Superboy Prime, imprisoned, but no one would ever stay locked up forever, and Conner had to be ready, next time, Conner would have to beat him without suffering a scratch. Prime shouldn’t even be able to touch him, as strong as Conner would be.

“Nightwing told me we should re-learn to see the Tower as a place we spend the weekend. To see friends. That we should stop systematically training.”

“I never would’ve believed I’d hear that from your mouth…”

“I know, me either. Or from Nightwing’s either, believe me. Finally… we’re also stagnating in our training. We haven’t evolved in a long time. So, if everyone’s okay with it, we should have special days. Invite a former Titan or another superhero who’d spend 24 hours with us to share their experience, to make us work as a team… Saturday for example. And Sunday, the day would be entirely for us. And we… wouldn’t do anything. Not necessarily train anyway. We should just spend time together.”

Tim waited for Cassie’s reaction. She stared at him.

“Whoa,” she finally said. “How long before we kill each other over a TV show, do you think?”

She didn’t wait for him to respond.

“It’s… a good idea, Tim. We… we need it. And it’ll also lighten your load.”

“I don’t really think I can continue to be the leader, Cassie. I’m not joking.”

“Let’s wait to see how it works before making a decision, emo boy.”

“In the era of Young Justice, it was you who said we should be able to count on our leader. Am I wrong?”

“And we can count on you.”

“I abandoned you for Nightwing.”

“I would have abandoned you for Donna or Diana. And you would have understood, just like we understood for you.”

She pursed her lips, winced, and continued:

“It’s you who can’t count on us. Lately… we’ve left you all the work, Tim. You were the only one worrying about the team or just about. Except maybe Bart… Mia has fabulous potential but continues to act like we could fire her at any moment. Kara disappears into the sky whenever she feels like it, no pun intended. Rose, and I’m trying to be objective here, Rose always seems bored with us. Conner… Hades, I don’t even want to talk about him. As for me, we already talked about me.

“I understand that with all that you’d want to step down. But Tim… nobody is going to stop considering you as the leader even if it’s what you want. It’s your appointed role.”

“Because I’m Robin.”

“No! Because you were there for us, because you didn’t leave us even when we deserved it!”

Cassie had gotten up and she spread her arms vehemently. Her whip glowed softly. She had tears in her eyes. Tim looked away.

“Because you have the experience too, because you know our capabilities perfectly, because… Listen, let us proved to you that we’re a team you can count on. A team that doesn’t need to be babysat. We’re a small team, but that isn’t a bad thing. Here’s my part of the deal: I promise to be there when you can’t, to back you up in exemplary fashion, and not to kill Rose in your absence.”

The touch of humor at the end hardly reached Tim. Cassie’s voice had broken in places.

“Ah, shit,” she breathed, cheeks damp. “I don’t even know why I’m crying!”

She let out a laugh that sounded false.

“It’s just… It seems that if you give up, it’ll be like this… And we all survived together and I…”

“I know,” Tim interrupted her in a hoarser voice than he would’ve liked. “I know.”

Cassie threw herself against him suddenly, threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him against her. He could only return her grip, an additional comfort and already less of a weight.

It was the time for the missteps they were remembering, for reconciliations, for all they should’ve said to each other months earlier, and which suddenly was coming to the surface. They were going to get over that damn Crisis, finally.

Tim just hoped that the next heart-to-heart wouldn’t come too soon, emotionally he wasn’t sure he’d hold on.

“We’ll make it through, yeah?” breathed Cassie. “It’ll be okay?”

He wasn’t certain she was talking about the entire team, about the friendship between them, or even something else, but he acquiesced.

“Yeah, it’s going to be okay.”

He felt her nod. He’d missed her. Cassie, their Cassie, willing and courageous, generous, determined to do things well.

“Tim,” she continued lowly, “I know that it’s almost impossible for you, but don’t take the lead. Be yourself. You’ll see, you won’t even realize that you’re our leader.”

“Hey!” he grumbled.

She let out another small laugh, realer this time, but which she stopped abruptly.

“Also… You can go out, with Conner. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Tim froze. Completely.

“What? No, but, I…”

“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUG!” shouted Bart, and in a second he was stuck to them like a suction cup.

Immediately, Cassie withdrew an arm from Tim to put it around him.

“Hey!” shouted Conner’s voice behind them.

“Time for a hug, everyone!” Bart bellowed again. “Come on, Kon!”

There was a moment of hesitation, then Tim felt his presence behind him, saw him come to the side and hug them in turn. He kept his eyes lowered, conscious that his mask was hiding them anyway, as much as he was unable to convince himself.

Kara arrived just after without any hesitation, then Cassie encouraged Cassie to join them.

“Oh, I’m dreaming!” Rose finally exclaimed. “No, no, out of the question.”

“Coward,” threw Cassie.

“Sorry for having a little dignity.”

“Rooose, come here!” insisted Bart.

They all turned their heads towards her. She looked at them, incredulous, then threw her arms up.

“Oh, very well!”

She pressed against them; Conner let out an indignant squeak, which Tim copied when she pinched his ass in turn. As for Bart, he gave them a radiant smile.

“For the psychological damage done to me,” she declared.

-

The rest of the weekend unwound like in a dream. They put training on stand-by and seriously discussed the future of the team. For the first time in a long time, Tim felt good with the Titans.

Sunday night, when he finished packing his bag, Conner came to knock on his open door. Tim carefully closed the zipper and turned towards him. There was a heavy silence. They hadn’t really spoken after Tim had fallen asleep in Conner’s arms two weeks earlier. He’d woken alone. There had been a note on his desk: Conner had had to go back to Metropolis and hadn’t wanted to disturb him, would give him a sign soon.

They had exchanged a few emails, mainly concerning Dick’s health.

Tim didn’t really understand what was happening. Wasn’t sure he wanted to understand, in fear of deluding himself.

Cassie’s words, which he’d buried so well, came back to him. He tensed.

“You know, you could take off your mask, when you’re at the tower,” said Conner.

“I’m Robin here.”

“That doesn’t stop you from being Tim.”

Tim turned towards his bag to put it over his shoulder.

“You wanted something, otherwise?”

His tone was too dry. Maybe. Or not enough? How did he usually speak to Conner?

“You’re going back to Gotham, right?” Conner asked him airily.

“Yeah…”

“You want me to take you back?”

Tim froze.

“What?”

“You want me to take you back?” repeated Conner without really looking him in the eye. “It’d save you time, right?”

Tim stared at him, mind going 60 miles an hour. Conner flew at a speed of Mach 10. For his telekinetic shield which protected Tim to resist the pressure, he’d have to reduce his speed by at least 52%. Which meant a trip of about half an hour. In Conner’s arms.

“Um, the plane’s coming to find me,” he said in a strangled voice. “It’s ten minutes from here.”

“Oh. Next time, if you want?”

“But it’s out of your way,” said Tim stupidly.

_Of course_ it was out of his way! He could be in Metropolis in five minutes! And both of them knew it, and…

“No big. Clark doesn’t wait up for me Sundays…”

Tim opened his mouth to let out a new argument. He had one. He knew it. He was there, not far. A half-hour in Conner’s arms. He couldn’t do it. It was masochism.

“All right,” he heard himself respond. “Thanks…”

Conner, who until now was staring at a vague point past Tim’s shoulder, looked up and flashed him a smile at once surprised and delighted. Tim felt a curious weakness in his legs.

“Cool,” said Conner, “cool….”

He put his hands in his pockets. Tim asked himself if it was too late to hide himself completely in his cape without seeming sketchy. Then a small beep sounded at his belt.

“The plane, I, I have to go.”

“Okay…”

Conner pulled away from the doorway.

“See you Saturday?”

“See you Saturday.”

Tim closed the door, smiled briefly at Conner, and passed him. He felt Conner’s gaze weigh on the back of his neck until he disappeared at the turn of the hallway.

¤¤¤

The manor had never seen as many superheroes in its enclosure. Perhaps for fear of seeing him leave on crutches to New York, Bruce had authorized Dick’s friends to visit him. Tim guessed he was bitterly regretting it. Wally, Roy, and Donna were practically camping in their friend’s room. Kory was on the other side of the universe and so didn’t know what had happened, but she was really the only one they hadn’t seen, and Tim wasn’t ruling out seeing her pop up before the end of her ex’s convalescence.

Alfred spent his time making pastries, and Dick complained that he wanted to keep him from being able to get up with the power of his sweets. Which didn’t prevent him from devouring them. And from eating the last possible crumb.

Dick hadn’t lasted long, his promises and resolutions had quickly vanished. Tim and Bruce had quickly caught him in the training room climbing onto the trapeze.

Bruce had caught him by the waist to support him or make him get down, Tim hadn’t decided. Dick had frozen, then leaned against him. Bruce had led him into his room without a word.

They didn’t talk much to each other. The tension of the first days had finally dissipated, probably thanks to the visits of Dick’s friends. There had been a strange distance between them which made Tim uneasy, as if they both were operating inside a bubble and were doing their best not to touch.

Tim and Alfred waited with a certain apprehension for the moment the bubbles would burst.

The Friday following Tim’s return to the Titans, Dick calmly announced at dinner that he would return to New York.

“No.”

Tim stiffened and threw a glance to Bruce, who hadn’t even lifted his eyes, to Alfred who hurried to remove the soup bowls, and finally to Dick who continued to chew as if he’d heard nothing.

Dinner ended in a leaden silence. At the end, Bruce carefully folded his napkin, got up, and disappeared in the direction of his office. Dick only lifted his head, eyes dark, pushed away his chair, and followed him while limping.

“I would advise you to get yourself to safety, Master Timothy. Perhaps you should leave earlier on patrol, I’m certain the streets of Gotham would know how to offer you better shelter than the manor in a moment.

Tim winced then left in the wake of his elders, with the intention to branch off before Bruce’s office. But they were already shouting when he reached the corridor, or rather Dick was already shouting. Bruce would certainly never deign to do so. Despite the thick door muffling their words, some words escaped, some turns of phrase. “Hypocrite” echoed particularly well.

Tim fled into the batcave, put on his suit, and left directly to Gotham.

When he returned around 2 in the morning (Cassandra saw to the second shift of the night, seeing as apparently Batman wasn’t going out that night), everything was calm in the manor.

He took a detour to avoid Bruce’s rooms and slipped into his bed. He struggled to fall asleep, in part because he was worried for Dick and Bruce, in part because… Conner had sent him an email.

_“Don’t forget I’m bringing you back!”_ he’d written.

As if Tim had been able to think of anything else the entire week.

¤¤¤

“Hey,” said Conner with a small smile at the corner of his mouth. “You ready?”

Tim nodded his head.

“Whenever you want…”

“Hm, let’s go to the roof then.”

They crossed the hall in silence and took the elevator to reach the take-off strip. Conner, leaning against a wall, smiled at him.

“It was nice,” he said, “us all spending time together. It’s good to hear Mia mocking us again.”

“Yeah. We need to relax.”

“I’m not sure you’re physically capable,” Conner teased him.

Tim jabbed him with an elbow, which earned him a small cry of protest.

“You don’t treat your mode of transportation like that!”

“It’s in your best interest to be comfortable,” returned Tim without thinking, and the doors of the elevator opening saved him from a doubtless embarrassing response from Conner.

They reached the edge of the runway, then Tim turned towards his friend, nervous again.

“How do you want us to do this?”

“Like this!”

And before he had the chance to react, Tim was in his arms, one of his own went around Conner’s neck on reflex, the other clutching his bag.

“Behave yourself,” Conner threw. “You’ll see, I have a surprise for you.”

Tim honestly expected the worst, but he had his arms around Conner and was pressed against him, was breathing in his scent. He would be stoic.

Take-off.

Tim quickly noticed a difference from the rare times he’d flown with Conner at super-speed.

“Your shield trembles less,” he said. “You strengthened it?”

Conner threw him a look of pure satisfaction and smiled with a roguish way that said that wasn’t all.

“You’ll see!” he exclaimed. “Too bad we can’t look at the scenery, right? It’s great to go fast, but we should take the time to look one of these days. If you warn them you’ll be a little late…”

Tim responded with a vague noise.

So Conner intended to bring him back every week. He swallowed his saliva. It was ridiculous. He knew how to control his heartbeat more than this! Especially as Conner had to hear it.

“Where do you want me to put you down?” he asked.

“Behind the manor, in the woods,” responded Tim.

“I’m not going to get knocked down by a kryptonite bullet, yeah?”

“Contrary to what you seem to believe, the manor isn’t armed against a Kryptonian attack…”

“I have my doubts… We’re here!”

“What? Where?”

“At the manor!”

Incredulous, Tim looked down. Conner had slowed down and the scenery was becoming more visible. He saw Gotham; from afar, the silhouette of the tower of Wayne Enterprises, and the growing dot of the manor.

He checked his watch.

“We left not even 15 minutes ago, that’s impossible,” he breathed.

“Nothing’s impossible for Superboy!”

They touched down gently. Tim released his bag and Conner let him down. He kept his hands on Tim’s hips. Tim hardly noticed.

“How’d you do it? Conner!”

He seemed simultaneously proud and embarrassed.

“I trained,” he responded in a strangely serious tone. “With Clark. I reach… well, I get to Mach 11 in good weather now. With wind behind me, I can go faster,” he added with a small smile.

Tim widened his eyes.

“And we worked a lot on my TTK. A lot. I stabilized it, improved it. I’m stronger too, but I have to grow even more before the change becomes really exceptional. Clark says my Kryptonian genes are coming out more, and a couple years from now, he hopes to retire.” A laugh. “As if he’s capable of stopping himself!”

Tim swallowed his saliva.

“You… why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I wanted… I wanted it to be a surprise. A gift. Something special.”

With his fingers, Conner brushed his cheek.

“I know… I know I scared you all. I know when you look at me, it’s all you can think about, that day Prime will find the way to escape. I’ll be ready, Tim. I’ll be _invincible_.”

Tim kissed him. He threw himself at Conner’s neck and found his lips, tightened his grip. Surprised for only a moment, Conner closed his arms around him again and found his mouth, responded and deepened the kiss with a gesture.

When Tim wanted to get his breath back, Conner kissed his neck then lifted his head.

“Take off your mask?”

Tim did it without hesitating, and Conner smiled at him, deeply happy.

“I miss your eyes terribly when I don’t see them.”

“Idiot,” muttered Tim, embarrassed.

They kissed again, small kisses at the corner of their lips, on the cheek, on the ear. Tim never wanted to stop.

¤¤¤

When he returned to the manor, at least 45 minutes later, Alfred opened the door for him with an ominous look.

“Master Richard returned to New York yesterday morning after you left,” he declared. “I fear that Master Bruce feels a certain deception.”

Suffice it to say that his humor had gone to the dogs, and Tim wasn’t skimping on the metaphor: Bruce wasn’t speaking, he was barking.

Wisely, Tim decided to dine in his room and pleaded his history class the following day to escape a patrol which boded ill. He sent a message to Cassandra to warn her against the disagreeable disposition of their “boss” and another to Barbara, whose response was: “ _Enjoy your evening_ _♥ I want details!_ ”

He wasn’t surprised even if she already knew. With a little luck, Bruce was too busy ruminating about Dick to play soothsayer, and Conner and he would have peace for a bit.

Conner.

Tim smiled stupidly.


	3. Chapter 3

Dick didn’t provide any explanation as to what’d happened when he’d left. He avoided talking about Bruce, but on the other hand wouldn’t stop interrogating Tim about Conner, overjoyed.

“If he hurts you, I’m eviscerating him with a kryptonite scalpel,” he declared joyously. “I’m so happy for you, little brother!”

Tim was happy too.

The organization of the “special days” at the Titans’ took them a little time. Dick came to the tower the following weekend to talk to them about it, proposing names, and he was the first “guest,” even if it was if a non-official capacity and Tim prevented him from moving around too much. It was well enough already that Dick was going out on patrol when he was barely recovered.

Conner folded gracefully to the need Tim felt about behaving “professionally” in front of the others. All the same, he crept into his room when everyone went to bed, and they spent a good hour kissing on the bed. Things started heating up a little, hands seeking skin underneath clothing and their movements becoming increasingly jerky, more urgent… and Conner pulled away so abruptly that he fell off the bed.

Tim got his breath back and leaned over.

“Conner…?”

“We can’t,” Conner said with a pained tone, lying on the ground.

“…what?”

“Nightwing.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of him. He likes you a lot. He gave me his approval.”

“Nightwing, Tim. I’m not afraid of him. But. He’s nice and he told me he trusted me and…”

“…he said that to you? When?”

Conner gestured vaguely.

“We spent a fair amount of time together. During the Crisis.”

Tim couldn’t help but stiffen a bit. Conner sat back and craned his neck to deposit a kiss at the corner of his lips.

“We talked a lot,” he continued. “And I’d really like him to keep liking me.”

“I really don’t think this will pose him any problem.”

“Maybe, but _I_ wouldn’t be sure I could look him in the eye tomorrow.”

Exasperated, Tim let himself fall to the ground and installed himself unceremoniously on Conner’s lap. Conner swallowed.

“Nobody will believe me if I say it’s you who wanted it.”

Tim kissed him to shut him up.

-

To his great consternation, Conner demonstrated a composure both exemplary and particularly frustrating. And a quite depressing sense of propriety.

“I want us to have a proper night to ourselves, with a proper morning. Not at the tower. Nobody ever knocks here!”

Conner, realized Tim, definitely didn’t know that he’d lost his virginity in Connor’s arms a year and a half earlier. He was going to have to decide whether it was wise to tell him or not.

That said, Conner wasn’t entirely wrong about the lack of privacy in the tower. They’d both fallen asleep on Tim’s bed, and in the morning they’d had a little difficulty separating; which was to say that they kissed for a good ten minutes, Conner leaning against the door jam, when the door opened wide without warning.

“Tim! I can’t find Conn… AH.”

If it were only Bart, it could’ve been okay. Unfortunately, Rose was in the hallway. Then Bart began to squeeze them both in a hug, shouting: “I’m so happy for you!” and their relationship was no longer a secret.

But what annoyed Tim most was to think they would be imagining things that hadn’t happened. Not for lack of trying.

Cassie acted like nothing had happened. She might’ve given him her blessing, but Tim felt uncomfortable about it with her, and given Conner’s discretion, he felt the same. There wasn’t any need to twist the knife in the wound.

On top of which, Nightwing’s presence always attracted crowds, especially those of people he regularly led, and the night before Mia had reported his presence to Roy. Inevitably, ex-Titans would continue coming around all Sunday.

Tim calculated that by early afternoon there wouldn’t be a single person unaware that Robin was going out with Superboy (in fact, he received a text from Jason around 4pm that could be summarized thus: “HA HA HA! LOSER!”).

He returned to the manor with a deep feeling of apprehension. He expected the worst, and the worst happened, but not the one he’d imagined.

Bruce was waiting for him, somber and solemn.

Tim had prepared himself to defend Conner and their relationship. Except Bruce saw only one downside, and it was physical.

“Conner is extremely strong,” he declared, ramrod straight. “It’s possible that… in certain situations where he wouldn’t be in possession of all of his mental faculties… he’ll forget that he could hurt you.”

Eyes wide, Tim tried to convince himself he hadn’t heard anything.

“I dare hope that you have or will have discussed this before every physical encounter.”

He seemed to expect a response. Tim nodded once without being able to blink. Seeming constipated, Bruce added:

“I imagine it’s pointless to remind Conner that in the case he causes you the slightest pain, he’ll have to answer to me for his actions.”

A hesitation, then he lifted his arm like it was rusty, stroked Tim’s head with an uncertain hand, and then gave his a small, tight smile. Tim suddenly felt a painful twinge of love for his adoptive father. He smiled back.

There was a moment of indecisiveness, then Bruce declared:

“Get away before they find us.”

Tim couldn’t hold back a surprised laugh. Impulsively, he hugged him and fled, running away.

¤¤¤

One couldn’t imagine the difficulties you could have to see your boyfriend when you’re a superhero. And that, even when said boyfriend is able to travel miles in just a few seconds. Between Conner’s training (which Tim wouldn't make his miss for anything in the world), classes, and their respective obligations (without counting emergency alerts), they spent very little time together, stolen moments. Conner left his school at lunch hour to be with Tim, and skived off here and there (and denied it, even if Tim knew his schedule by heart) when it coincided with an hour his boyfriend was free…

The Titans might know they were a couple, but they were still having trouble flaunting it in front of them, and weekends consisted only of furtive embraces. Tim had given up convincing Conner to go further when it’d become evident that Rose and Kara were finding any excuse to interrupt them.

“But what do they want?” groaned Tim.

“To catch us in a compromising position,” responded Conner in a resigned tone.

“What? _Why_?

“One day, I’ll have to show you Kara’s room.”

The text Rose had sent him a few weeks earlier came back to him, and Tim hid his scarlet face against Conner’s chest.

-  
Several days and a missed date later, they were online while Tim did a routine patrol when Conner reminded him they had a holiday soon.

_“I checked it out, we finish classes Wednesday for you, then that’d give us both Thursday and Friday together at least. We could meet up Wednesday night, and go together to the Titans Saturday? You think Batman’d let you do it? I know he doesn’t like me too much in Gotham, he’s right, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from intervening when necessary. But you could come to Metropolis. It’s not ideal, we’d be at Clark’s, but… I’d do anything to see you more than an hour at a time.”_

Tim smiled, brought his knees back in then frowned.

“I don’t know if that’s feasible. Batman’s still on the outs with Nightwing and it’s not improving his mood. I can try to disappear for two days but…”

_“He’d come to torture me. Ask him permission before taking drastic measures like that. That said, if not I’ll kidnap you and plead red kryptonite.”_

“There’s always that,” said Tim with a terrible want to tell Conner to come see him, immediately.

_“In fact, what’s going on between Batman and Nightwing?”_

With a small grimace, Tim shut his eyes.

“Great question,” he sighed. “I’m not even certain they know themselves.”

Their dispute was beginning to date. Tim feared it would last forever. One thing was certain, nothing would fix itself.

¤¤¤

Some days later, at dinner, Bruce put his napkin on the table in that universal gesture which meant: _“We’re going to talk.”_

Tim put his fork down carefully.

“Tim. If you want to spend your school break with Dick, you can.”

Tim stared at him. A quickly concealed expression of unease passed across his face.

“I’m aware you haven’t had the opportunity to see him much recently. I’ll let you know if I need you in Gotham.”

He looked at his watch, preoccupied.

“I’ll leave you to finish, I have things to do in my office.”

Bruce rose and left the dining room hastily. Tim followed him with his eyes, stupefied. Then he turned to Alfred in a silent interrogation. Alfred lifted an eyebrow.

“They spoke to each other?” Tim finally asked.

“Don’t ask for too much, Master Timothy. During his weekly phone call, Master Richard asked me to intercede in your favor, because, and I quote, you need a real vacation and Bruce doesn’t understand the meaning of one.”

Tim shook his head.

He thanked Alfred for his participation, finished his dinner, and then went to his room. It was on his way back that he realized what this meant.

Dick would let him much more easily than Bruce, indeed without any difficulty, nay with enthusiastic encouragements, spend two days with Conner. He hastened his pace. Once in his room, he immediately contacted Dick to be sure of him.

Not only did Dick not see any problem, but facilitated the task with disconcerting ease.

“I’m leaving Wednesday for the Wests’,” he declared. “Make yourselves at home in the apartment, Conner and you.”

“…seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Tim offered his soul to a hilarious Dick, then hurried to send an email to Conner to let him in on the change of situation. An email to which his boyfriend responded with a simple: “I know :3”

“…” thought Tim.

_You spoke to Nightwing?_

_Yep :D_

_So, you want to do nothing with the Titans? because he’s there but on the other hand spending four nights in his apartment. any problem with that?_

_I’m desperate, I miss you, I want you and I’m trying not to think about it :D_

On reflex, Tim ducked his head to hide his too large smile, even if the computer screen wouldn’t capture his incriminating expression and send it.

“♥”, he responded simply.

¤¤¤

Conner dropped him off in New York on the Sunday night of his vacation. Dick had proposed Conner stay for dinner, and they spent the night talking, for the most part about the Titans and their first adventures. Dick narrated animatedly, smile on his lips and with enthusiastic gesticulations.

Conner left around 11pm, and Dick and Tim did the dishes then left quickly to patrol the city.

Nightwing was bouncing around, double and triple and quadruple flips as if they were nothing, perilous flips…

The following day, Tim waited for Dick to leave to the Cloisters, then went to rifle through his drawers.

_I was sure of it._

A box of sleeping pills, only one, where only one capsule was missing. Taken, Tim would’ve sworn under oath, the night before his arrival to hide the dark circles where you could see the shadows under Dick’s eyes. The previous night, Dick had talked a lot and eaten little. The acrobatics of the preceding night had had the perfume of spectacle, of illusions, _look-I’m-doing-fine_!

A bat didn’t have to be taught the art of concealing emotions, and Tim was one down to his bone marrow.

He went on the attack the next night, upon their return from patrol. Dick was in the kitchen preparing a snack. The kitchen went right into the living room, a simple island counter separating the two rooms. Tim placed himself at the opening near the wall, closing off the exit. He knew Dick wouldn’t have any difficulty jumping over the counter if he felt like it, but the symbolism was there: Tim wouldn’t let him run.

“What’s happening between Bruce and you?”

Dick showed no sign of surprise or uneasiness. He turned, put down the platter of mini-sandwiches and juices on the bar, and responded shrugging his shoulders:

“Nothing special compared to usual.”

“Usually Bruce grumbles and listens to your messages. You rant about him. Then, Bruce begins to lose himself in the Mission again, and at home he doesn’t leave his office or does, to wander the hallways like a lost soul.”

He surveilled Dick’s expression. Dick’s mouth tightened but he refused to look at him.

“As for you, you’re taking sleeping pills to try to convince me you’re not spending your hours on patrol so you don’t have to be alone at home.”

This time, Dick raised his head.

“You went through my drawers?”

Tim rolled his eyes.

“You thought I wouldn’t see?” he asked in a tone both wounded and annoyed.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Tim.”

“I won’t let the two of you destroy each other without doing anything! I’m not letting you not talk to each other. I feel like a child of divorce.”

This time, Dick tensed, imperceptibly, but it was there. Shoulders more straight, eyes wary, on the defensive.

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not blind. Maybe I didn’t understand right away, but…”

“Tim. No.”

Tim shut up, taken aback. Dick’s voice had almost cracked. He had heard the fault, there, quickly hidden.

_Come on_ , he wanted to say _. I can carry you. I can help you, you don’t need to spare me, I can support you like you’ve supported me_.

He approached with a hesitant step. If he didn’t talk… If he didn’t talk nothing would get better, and Tim couldn’t watch them slowly destroy themselves like this.

“I can’t believe for a second that it’s not mutual,” he continued. “Not given the way he acts with you.”

“Tim, it’s complicated. It’s not important, and…”

“And it’s Bruce so I imagine he’s complicating things where there’s no need. Why did you let him adopt you?”

“I was happy he did it.”

“You were happy he put such a barrier between you?”

Dick took an uneven breath.

Not for the first time, Tim realized that without his mask, his older brother was vulnerable. There where Bruce and Tim could stay Batman and Robin even with a bare face, Dick lost all his emotional defenses that belonged to him. It was logical, somewhere: Dick worked by touching, and Nightwing’s mask was a tactile sensation.

His heart in his hand, broken. The smile cracked like a bad painting. The transparent look of resignation.

“Bruce,” he said in a cautious voice, “made it clear to me that he didn’t want to change the current state of our relations.”

“After the show he’s put on lately?”

“This isn’t a new fact,” continued Dick as if there hadn’t been any interruption. “I need a little time to get myself back on my feet, but it’ll work out.”

He smiled confidently.

“A little while from now everything will be like before.”

Tim stared at him, incredulous. Dick handed him his plate.

“You want to go to bed or watch a movie?”

¤¤¤

Dick’s plane for Keystone City left at the beginning of the evening. He left the apartment at the end of the afternoon, with few recommendations other than having fun.

“And don’t worry, there’s everything you’d need in the dresser in your room,” he threw out before fleeing in laughter to escape an attack from Tim.

Conner arrived in the minute that followed.

“You were waiting for him to leave?” Tim finally asked before kissing him enthusiastically.

“I want to be able to look him in the eye next time I see him,” Conner responded a while later.

“Which is already an effort, I imagine.”

“Well you’ve seen his cost… er, not that I, well…”

Tim shut him up with a quick kiss.

“Conner, I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything you want.”

-

Tim slipped into the manor in silence. Bruce must’ve already eaten, it was early, and with a little luck he wouldn’t have brought his meal to his office. Alfred tended to purse his lips when that happened too often.

The coast was clear. He entered the office, closed the door again behind him, and stood on the ledge, cloaked in his cape. The moon wasn’t quite full, enough to illuminate his from behind, enough for the desired effect. Maybe Bruce wouldn’t allow himself to be impressed by a tactic he’d _invented_ , but it would be more difficult for him to avoid taking Tim seriously.

Twenty minutes passed before the office door opened. Bruce sensed his presence right away, identified him, closed it again, and took a step forward.

“Robin,” he said in a voice close to that of Batman.

Tim didn’t respond immediately. He let three long seconds elapse, time for Bruce to realize what was happening. Tim imagined he blinked in surprise.

“I saw Dick. I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you don’t intend to be honest to each other, you don’t have any right to him. Certainly not the right to use his feelings to keep him close and keep him from finding anyone else. I also don’t know what the reasons for your reluctance are, I don’t doubt they seem legitimate to you, and that they’re perfectly ridiculous. But you, you can be sure that I won’t let you continue hurting him like this.

“Talk to him. Don’t make both of you unhappy for nothing, Bruce.”

He didn’t wait for the response, and took a step back and jumped into the air. Conner welcomed him immediately, and in the seconds that followed they were kilometers away from the manor.

“ _Nightwing. Batman_ ,” said Conner in a strangled voice.

Tim didn’t respond, still a little shaken.

“ _Nightwing and Batman_. And you _threatened_ Batman.”

“Bruce,” Tim corrected mechanically.

“You threatened _Batman_. I don’t know if I’m going out with the craziest or classiest guy in existence.”

Tim bit his shoulder gently.

-

It took them barely a couple minutes to reach Dick’s apartment. Conner flew into the shadows and waited for Tim to open the balcony door and slipped inside before following him.

“Don’t turn on the light before closing the drapes,” Tim warned him. “People could see us from outside.”

The night was clear enough anyway to allow them to move to a non-exposed area. Tim lifted his hand to remove his mask, but Conner caught it in the air.

“Let me do it?” he asked lowly. “Or am I going to electrocute myself?”

“As if that did anything against you,” Tim responded in the same tone, heart beating faster.

He still shook his head; he’d only put the basic costume back on, the one that was used most often for training or flying with Dick. Lighter. Easier to take off.

He felt Conner’s fingers on his temple, held his breath, and closed his eyes. His mask came off without difficulty.

“Then?” murmured Conner, hands on his hips, lips on his cheek.

“The cape…”

It resisted a little more and fell in a rustle of protest. Conner kissed him on the neck.

“Afterwards?”

“Belt.”

A simple click if you knew the mechanism, a little longer if not. Conner took his time and nipped his throat, fingers playing under his belt. Tim stifled a noise and put his arms around his shoulders, bringing his hips closer in an instinctive movement.

The belt joined the cape.

Tim stood on tiptoe, pressed himself against Conner, and removed his boots in a matter of seconds. Conner undid the laces of his red tunic; rid of his gauntlets, Tim placed a bare hand on the nape of his neck. Conner’s fingers touched the skin under his throat, pushing away a piece of the tunic, and Tim had to detach his arms from his neck to remove them from the sleeves; Conner’s hands left to play with his shoulders, then a caress to his pecs before catching his waist where the tunic had fallen, where he made it slide over his hips, bringing with it the top of his tights.

“I knew you couldn’t be wearing anything underneath,” he whispered.

Tim bit his throat, caught the tails of his shirt and helped him take it off, kissed his collarbone, fingers on the edge of his jeans, pressing the button, agile, one hand lowering the zipper, another plunging unceremoniously into his black boxers.

“I was never certain you bothered to wear anything,” he responded in the same tone.

Conner let out a hoarse growl. In an effort which seemed superhuman, which was helped by his ancestry, he detached himself from Tim and dropped to his knees.

An indeterminate time later, lying on the ground, the bottom of his tights still clinging to his feet, his fingers in Conner’s hair, Tim cleared his throat.

“Hm.”

Conner let out a small laugh and lifted back up to lean on his elbows over Tim. He kissed his ear.

It wasn’t with Cassie, nor with any girls he’d frequented, that Conner had learned to give that kind of blowjob. With a twinge of jealousy, he asked himself who he’d given himself to. If Tim knew him. And okay, he had no right to blame him or anything, but… before a couple of months ago, Conner had never displayed any interest in men. Tim would’ve liked to have been the first.

“Not to complain, but…”

Conner moved slightly. Tim felt the hard line of his dick against his thigh.

“I know for a fact that the room is adequately equipped,” he declared.

“Delighted to know I’m dealing with professionals,” said Conner with a laugh.

Tim gave him a smack on the ass. Conner stood up, dragging him with him. He went a little fast and Tim bumped against him. With an impatient grunt, Conner put his arm around his waist.

“If you think for even an instant of carrying me to the bed, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”

“…that a promise?”

¤¤¤

The clock on the bedside table chimed midnight. Tim was a little hungry. Not enough to move. He was lying on his stomach, head turned towards Conner, who’d closed his eyes moments earlier. But they had their fingers interlaced between two pillows, and from time to time Conner’s thumb caressed his.

“So,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?”

“Green Arrow.”

Tim raised his eyebrows.

“…Ollie?”

“No, the other one.”

“…Connor?”

“Yes.”

“…What, Connor?”

Conner opened his eyes.

“It was with him, your first time.”

That settled one problem.

“Yes…”

Conner buried his head in the pillow with a groan. Tim couldn’t hold back a smile.

“I wasn’t going to wait another 107 years for you,” he replied. “Am _I_ asking you who it was?”

“Nobody you’ll come across from time to time. Or who you’ll have to look in the eye or watch me _talk to_. Or who I’ll see again, anyways.”

Tim admitted internally that it was good to know. He approached him and kissed his shoulder blade.

“Connor is very happy with Roy. I’m very happy with you.”

Conner finally turned towards him, a stupid smile on his lips.

“Very true,” he declared.

He gently flipped Tim onto the mattress and kissed him, half on top of him. Tim ran his fingers through his hair.

He could almost feel Conner’s heart beat against his.

¤¤¤

Returning back from Titans’ Tower the following Sunday, Tim entered a manor empty of its usual occupants. In the dining room, the table was set for only one person. He went down to the kitchen where Alfred was preparing dinner.

“Hello, Alfred.”

“Hello, Master Timothy. Did you enjoy your vacation?”

“Very much, thank you… Bruce isn’t here?”

He’d asked the question with a little apprehension, not knowing what the consequences of his surprise visit would be. He hadn’t received any news since, afraid to look for it.

Alfred carefully turned off the gas, then turned to Tim, eyes laughing.

“I believe I understood that Master Bruce had an urgent matter to deal with. In New York.”

Tim widened his eyes; a spontaneous smile appeared on his lips and he broke into a surprised laughter. He leaned back against the countertop.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Who would have believed it? Even Bruce can start living again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the main story, I really hope you've enjoyed my translation! It was a great project to do for me, and I hope to do more in the future :)
> 
> I'll be posting deleted scenes and author's notes later this week, so you'll have a little something more to look forward to. Thank you all so much!


	4. Deleted Scenes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Translated notes:)
> 
> The "deleted scenes" correspond to certain events seen by others. There’s some crack, and not crack, I will definitely add progressively more. As for Bruce and Dick, they’re the object of an entire fic, Soul Blue. :)

1)[...] Conner had disappeared when he left for his search; Mia informed him that he’d claimed an emergency in Metropolis before leaving the tower. [...]

Clark stopped typing his article for the next day when his phone rang. The identity of the caller was disguised, which meant it could be only two people: Lex or Bruce. He picked up with an internal sigh at the circumstances.

“Clark,” began Lex without even giving him the time to say hello, “can you tell your son to stop his destruction of Labs 7 through 11? I just rebuilt them. I would be _very_ grateful to you.”

A busy tone, he’d hung up. Irritated, Clark crossed his arms.

“Ah yes of course, when it’s convenient he’s my son,” he grumbled before flying away to see what was wrong. Conner really only attacked LexCorp when something was wrong.

All the same, he waited with a guilty pleasure for Conner to complete his demolition job.

 

2) [...] “And then, a little fresh blood would be nice,” added Conner. “Bart, you and I have known each other from the beginning. Anyone really great, of the potential candidates?”

Bart pulled at his hair in a perhaps exaggerated fashion […].

“Conner’s _thick_ , Cissie!” exclaimed Bart. “ _Thick_! How can he think Tim’s going to take that as an invitation or that it’ll drive him crazy with jealousy or I don’t know what! I thought he was going to kill him.”

Cissie bit her thumb nail.

“When you told me Conner was starting to be interested in boys, I thought they were on the right track…”

“They are! But he won’t stop derailing it!”

Bart took a deep breath.

“I know we said we’d interfere as little as possible, but if he continues I’m telling him, for Tim. Otherwise this is going to end badly.”

Cissie acquiesced.

“We’ve waited for this since Young Justice. We’re not going to let them miss out on getting together!”

 

3) [...] “Red Hood?” muttered a voice near him.

Conner. A hand on his shoulder which he no longer felt. Automatically he thought: _why aren’t you at the tower, they need you_ […].

Tim had barely turned his back when Cassie heard herself say:

“Superboy, go with him.”

Conner, who was following Robin with his eyes, turned to her with in amazement. Cassie held his gaze longer than she would’ve believed, but was grateful for Rose’s intervention.

“Hey, if he’s going, I am too!”

“Me too,” added Kara. “Nightwing could…”

“No,” Cassie cut in. “You’ve forgotten already? Nightwing said we should hold the tower and we’re going to hold it! We wouldn’t be any use to him there.”

“Why would little S have the right to…”

Cassie sighed. She couldn’t believe what she was about to say.

“We’re not going to leave Robin alone. And Superboy is the best qualified to care for him. Get out of here,” she added, trying not to seem too tense.

“She’s right, yeah, go there quick!” Bart supported her enthousiatically. “Don’t leave him all alone for long! Take good care of him!”

Conner took off without asking the rest. Cassie turned away, arms crossed. She felt her lasso pulse against her hip. _Now would be the moment they’d be attacked._

Next to her, Rose uttered an obscene expletive and gave a kick to the control panel. Cassie felt a baffling wave of sympathy be born inside her, but he desire to snap was too strong and she was going to rebuff her when Bart suddenly touched her arm. He gave her a dazzling smile.

_Ah, fuck._

She returned it, more fragile. When she raised her eyes, Kara was smiling at her too, monstrously proud of her. If you considered that the first time they’d met, Cassie had attacked her in a fit of irrational jealousy when now she’d just sent her ex-boyfriend to join the person she’d been dumped for, yes, there was something for her to be proud of.

The burning of the lasso on her hip abated.

_Hades did it suck to grow up._

 

4) [...] Sunday night, when he finished packing his bag, Conner came and knocked on his open door. [...]

“Conner.”

Conner winced. He stopped, turned back, and offered Cassie a weak smile. She had her arms crossed over her chest and had an expression which announced nothing good.

“Hey,” he said. “I thought you’d already left…”

“You haven’t said anything to Tim.”

Conner froze.

“Tim?” he repeated in a tone he hoped wasn’t suspect.

“It’s been four months since you left me for him, and you haven’t said anything to him.”

“That had nothing to do with T…”

“No need to protect him. You think I’m blind?”

Cassie struck him with a glare.

“I’m sorry,” Conner said in a low voice.

He had never wanted to hurt her. He knew that was an easy excuse, but he had never expected his crush on Tim would become so serious. He had always thought that it would go away if he didn’t pay attention to it. He had always preferred girls, and Cassie was… luminous. Explosive. Spontaneous. Unbreakable.

And then Conner had “died,” and things had changed.

“Four months,” she repeated. “If it’s because of me, it’s fine, don’t be shy. If it’s because you’re freaked out, I’m going to strangle you.”

“I… we shouldn’t talk about this…”

“Oh yes we should.”

Upon his “return,” after weeks and weeks spent in Lex’s laboratory adjusting to his new body and feeling it grow because: “It must conform to your soul to fit you well, Conner,” it was Tim who was first to believe him. Tim who had fought for them to give him a chance to prove his identity. Clark had vacillated between absolute acceptance and total rejection. But Tim had called him “Conner” right away and had asked for proof only to convince _the others_.

Then when the results had arrived, when Raven had sworn by all gods and beliefs that it was really him… Tim had disappeared. Robin had been there, yes, with the Titans, but Tim had hidden himself behind the mask and didn’t come out anymore. Conner hadn’t understood. Then he’d thrown himself into pursuing Tim, his best friend, his shoulder, so important to him… until realizing that he could no longer delude himself about his feelings.

“What are you waiting for, exactly?”

What was a waiting for? A better occasion… Tim wasn’t doing well. Tim was fragile right now, with what had happened to Nightwing. Tim… Tim didn’t show his emotions easily, and yes Conner often had the impression that there was more, much more, and at other times he asked himself if he wasn’t deluding himself.

He’d never felt so unsure of himself in a similar situation.

“It’s not the right time…”

“It’ll never be the right time. Tim will never make the first step because he’s a neurotic and he’s convinced himself that the only thing he can do for you is try to make you as strong as possible. I’m sick and tired of seeing both of you beat around the bush, it’s making me crazy. So you decide, Kon-El. You decide or I’m telling you you’re going to regret it.”

Stupefied, Conner opened his mouth but could only watch he turn her back and leave with angry strides.

A pinch of regret crushed his heart. He hadn’t fallen in love with her by accident.

He recovered. She was right, he should… he should act.

At worst, he’d humiliate himself.

_Ouch._

But oh well. If needed he’d fight for it, he’d prove to Tim that it was worth it to try, that it was worth it to give him a chance. He was Superboy, after all, he knew how to fight for what he wanted.

Now, there was only hoping that Tim hadn’t already left.


	5. Teen Titans and Notes

The Teen Titans of Orange Blues:

This is pretty much my ideal team of this generation :D

 

 

Banner by [tipitina](http://tipitina.livejournal.com/) ♥

Notes

− Love again for Brisby and Tip ♥

− The Ethiopian restaurant where our three bats go is [Zoma](http://www.zomanyc.com/). It’s good and very nice :D

− After Conner’s “resurrection,” Clark asked him to come live in Metropolis with him. Curiously, Conner felt a little guilty leaving the Kents.

− Krypto had to stay in Smallville, but he fled to Metropolis and broke the window of Clark’s apartment to join Conner, so they keep him there, fingers crossed very tightly. Conner takes him out flying and walking every day. Almost without complaining.

− I confess without any shame that my Lex is less diabolical than simply megalomaniacal. I never really liked Smallville, but on the other hand did like Lex, and in my canon, it’s him, or rather fanon!Lex, who didn’t necessarily mature super-positively, but who isn’t the psychopath of the comics. And darn if it’s a heresy! :D

− I’m furious with what they’ve done to Cassie’s character in Teen Titans. I liked her a lot, and they made her a complete bitch who seems to have woken up, but damn, whatever. I tried to find a balance.

− The very first scene of this fic was written last November, after reading the passage in Devin Grayson’s [Inheritance](http://shakeskp.livejournal.com/224847.html) where Batman executes this famous immobilization technique on Nightwing. As Roy would say: BOGUS. :D

− I didn’t have any idea about what would come next. I didn’t expect that three months later she would talk more about Tim and Conner than Dick and Bruce. ^^ ;

− Also, when I started this back up again, I didn’t know what it meant at all. I proceeded, proceeded, the scenes came all by themselves, and the trauma post-Infinite Crisis took me completely by surprise. I always had a vague idea of the following scene, but they all revealed themselves as I came to them.

− That’s how I prefer writing, I realize. Especially as the scenes follow up on each other so much that I often only have to correct details in the preceding scenes, and it’s like magic :D

− Thanks for reading ♥

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: (translated)
> 
> Some warnings: subtle fangirling of New York, absolute denial of almost everything concerning Bart aside from his transition from Impulse to Kid Flash, evilspoiledbratTim, fangirling in general.
> 
> My soul and eternal love to: brisby_pops Kon to my Tim and tipitina The Real Tim’s Brain, who supported me in every sense of the word, let themselves be exploited, who squeed, encouraged, corrected, helped, photoshopped, brainstormed, did math late in the night, responded to more or less random questions, and all this without ever seeing the final result XD Thanks girls, you are my superheroines, my Titans, my JLA, my Oracle, I love you ♥
> 
> Banner by Tipitina


End file.
